


Demon 101

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean, Gen, Men of Letters Bunker, Season/Series 10, Slight Canon Divergence, alternate beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crashing sound echoing through the bunker made Sam finally emerge from the basement. There was only one person it could be, and Sam was ready to bitch Crowley out for not appearing sooner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demon 101

A crashing sound echoing through the bunker made Sam finally emerge from the basement. There was only one person it could be, and Sam was ready to bitch Crowley out for not appearing sooner after letting Sam yell himself hoarse for over thirty minutes.

What he didn’t expect was to halt just inside the library and stare numbly at his very mobile, very not-dead brother, who was swiping things off the table like he was throwing a tantrum.

 “What the hell did you do to me?” Dean yelled, and Sam thought it was directed at him until a limey voice answered from the shadows.

“ _I_  didn’t do anything, ducky.  _You’re_  the one who fully consented to the Mark.”

“I didn’t know about…I didn’t sign up for…for  _this_!” Dean hissed. “I was dead! Why can’t anything let me goddamn stay that way?”

Crowley tutted. “Being a demon is much more fun than being dead.” At his words, a spear of ice drove through Sam’s chest. He must’ve gasped because suddenly Dean’s head whipped around to him, and  _oh god_  his eyes were jet black. Sam unconsciously stepped backward, unable to breathe.

Dean’s jaw clenched, glancing down and then darting toward where Crowley strode into view. “My eyes…they’re… How do you make them…?”

Crowley let out a long sigh. “You just will them away. Honestly, it’s Demon 101.”

Dean swallowed hard and focused, the black rolling back to reveal wary green eyes set into the battered face of what was otherwise a very human man, though that wasn’t the case anymore, was it? Sam wanted to ask him what was going on, but the words jammed in his throat. His head was still swimming from the alcohol, and his vision was fuzzy at the edges after screaming so long.

“Sammy, it’s okay,” Dean said finally, slow and placating as he looked at him. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Figure what out, exactly?” Crowley asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Human-you died. Demon-you was born. There’s no going back. And tell me, do you really want to go back?”

Dean glared. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I do! I’m a…I’m a…” he trailed off, his expression lost as he took a moment to assess himself. Crowley nodded knowingly.

“Really, Dean? Why don’t you tell me why you’d want to go back – why, after you feel the way you do?”

“Dean,” Sam choked out, and when Dean stared at him, it was with the same pleading eyes that had held Sam’s gaze after being run through by Metatron’s blade.

“How do you feel, Dean?  _What_  do you feel?” Crowley was asking, and Dean finally tore his eyes away from Sam, breathing deep.

“I…I…”

“What. Do. You. Feel?” Crowley repeated, and Dean suddenly stilled.

“Nothing. I feel nothing,” he reported, his voice hollow.

A smile spread on Crowley’s lips. “Exactly. You’re a blank slate. Think of this as a fresh start. You’re not bogged down by all that wretched human emotion. No more guilt, shame, regret. No, you just exist now, in your purest state.” Crowley sidled up to him, leaning to add, “And it feels  _wonderful_.” When Dean didn’t deny it, Crowley just clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club. Now, Daddy’s got business to take care of, so he’ll pick you up from demon preschool later. Ta-ta!”

With that, Crowley vanished, leaving behind stunned silence. Dean moved to brace himself on the table, his gaze distant, as Sam collapsed into a chair. Some part of his mind warned him to grab his knife, or at least get some salt or gather the words of an exorcism on his tongue, because this couldn’t be his brother, this just couldn’t be…

“It’s me, Sammy,” Dean said, finally glancing over at him, and Sam just shook his head, lost. Was Dean reading his mind? Could demons do that? Was this demon really…Dean?

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on either,” Dean added, gruff. “But the Mark…it didn’t let me… I mean, I died but…” He scoffed. “It changed me. I should’ve known, but oops, too late now. Dying would’ve been too easy.”

Sam had to huff out his own laugh at that, because yeah, the Winchester mortality rate was getting  _really_  ridiculous.  

“I gotta say though,” Dean continued, observing his hand as he held it aloft, wriggling his fingers before clenching them into a fist. “This  _is_  the best I’ve felt in a long time, in, heck, forever!” He laughed, then, and it was a real laugh, one Sam hadn’t heard from Dean in years, not since before Hell.

“Shit, I wonder what I can do?” Dean threw out his hand and flicked his finger, sending a book flying off the bookshelf with a whoop. He adopted a Yoda voice and faced Sam, which, at the very least, convinced him that this was indeed his brother.

“Use the Force, I can. Jedi, I am.” Dean’s smile receded and he grew sullen, correcting himself with a small, “No, more like Sith, I am.” But then he shook his head to dispel that thought, and he bounced back, grinning.

“Dude, this is awesome! I wonder if I can still smoke out if I’m in my own meat suit? What the hell are the rules, anyways? I mean, Ruby loved French fries and shit…does that mean I can’t eat _anything_  with salt? What’s up with that? Maybe I should test—”

“STOP!” Sam cut in. “Just… _stop_. Please. This isn’t…this isn’t you, okay?”

“What’s wrong, Sammy? Not digging the new Dean?”

Sam swallowed. “No. I’m not. It’s just…you were dead. I…carried your body.” He met his brother’s  _human_  eyes, and Dean at least had the grace to look ashamed before he shrugged.

“Yeah, well…shit happens in our line of work. You know how it is.”

“Dean…”

“No, Sam, you don’t get it. This  _is_  me. This is what I am.” He gestured to himself. “You either love it or hate it. There’s no going back.”

“We can fix this.”

“And what if I don’t want to be fixed?”

Sam’s jaw tightened and he let out a long sigh, his fingers coiling into fists.

“We’ll figure something out,” he managed through gritted teeth, and Dean smirked.

“Do whatever you gotta do, Sammy. Me? I’m gonna see what this baby can do.” Dean cracked his knuckles and sauntered down the hall toward the gun range. He sent Sam a half-wave over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner.

Sam collected his thoughts for a minute, and then he moved, grabbing everything he could think of to turn his brother back into a human. There had to be something, some lore from some part of the world that knew how to handle not just demons, but the Mark of Cain.

There had to be  _something_.

Sam woke hours later, face-down in a book. The edge had left a mark on his face, and he rubbed at it, staring around blearily. The bunker was quiet. Too quiet. His heart pounded, and Sam lurched to his feet.

“Dean?” he yelled, but there was no answer. Racing to the gun range, he discovered that it was empty, and the lights were off. It was the same in every other room he thought to check until finally, Sam was standing outside Dean’s door. He pushed it open and his eyes immediately fell to a note on the bed. Dean was nowhere to be seen.

Shaking hands picked up the scrap of paper, and the words blurred together.

_Sammy, let me go._

Sam crumpled the paper in his fist and hurled it against the wall.


End file.
